XVI.

THE CHRIST-TREE.

The kingdom of heaven is like to a grain of mustard seed, which a man took, and sowed in his field: which indeed is the least of all seeds: but when it is grown, it is the greatest among herbs, and becometh a tree, so that the birds of the air come and lodge in the branches thereof. — ST. MATTHEW xiii. 31, 32.

ANYTHING that can be compared to a

wheat field, a mustard seed, a yeastcake, a hidden treasure, a pearl and a fishnet, must have a complex and many-sided life. This is exactly what we must believe of that strange thing of which Jesus spoke so much, "the kingdom of heaven." What did He mean by this majestic phrase, which was continually upon His lips, and which He pictured in so many parables, graphic bits of scenery cut out from the life of nature and the world?

Did He mean the spiritual force which outflows from His person and doctrine into the heart and conscience of men, working in them

moral transformation, touching silently the springs of character? This we might gather from the parable of the leaven. But how, then, shall we interpret the parables of the field that was sown with both wheat and tares, and the net that gathered both good and worthless fish? Did He mean the beatific life beyond the grave? This we might suppose from the parable of the hidden treasure and the goodly pearl, for whose purchase it was worth while for a man to sell all that he had. But this too clashes with those two parables which make the kingdom of heaven include both good and bad men. Did He mean, then, simply His historic Church, the visible organization of His professed followers? A field of mingled grain and brier, a drag-net sweeping through the sea, quite fairly represent the history and condition of the Church. But the hidden leaven, the buried treasure, the priceless pearl, seem to suggest something invisible in its workings, inestimable in its worth, uncompacted of mortal clay, untouched by sin and shame.

The fact of the matter is, Christ's kingdom of heaven means the whole product of His

divine life and work, the new spiritual truth with which He lit up the sky of men's minds, the new spiritual forces which He poured into men's souls, the visions of the immortal life which He opened beyond the horizons of earth, and, finally, the Church, the visible organization in human history, with its ministry and sacraments and creeds, which bears witness to His divine law and truth, propagates them, gives them voice and feet and hands in the life of the world.

But there is one parable that seems to include all these various aspects of the kingdom of heaven: "Another parable put He forth unto them, saying, The kingdom of heaven is like to a grain of mustard seed, which a man took, and sowed in his field: which indeed is the least of all seeds: but when it is grown, it is the greatest among herbs, and becometh a tree, so that the birds of the air come and lodge in the branches thereof."

What a picture is this of the spiritual seed in the heart of a man; the small beginnings, the vital power, the gradual growth of the personal religious life!

At first "it is the least of all seeds." Is not this true? Compare the various forces that surge through our human nature and press upon human life, with that tiny germ of spiritual force which lies in the heart of a boy or girl. From the very first, how the mere physical envelope of the soul shuts in and stifles its life! How clamorously the body cries out and asserts its needs! And then the great world closes in upon the soul, and flings its shadow over the thought and desire. It is a strong, compact, complex world, throbbing with mighty forces, echoing with persuasive voices, decking itself with glittering prizes, laying hold of the life with masterful hands to brand it with its own mark, and shape it after its own interpretations. In comparison with all this; the world's visible might and splendor, its persistent energy, its pressure and thrust, and seduction and tyranny, how slight and feeble a thing seems that vague desire, that dim sense of need, which are the first movements of the spiritual life in the soul! In these strenuous voices, how soft and low is the whisper of God in the ear of conscience!

Yes, the great trees of the world's forest, swinging in the storm, feeding on the sunlight, throw their shadows over the soul; and, unnoticed, ofttimes making no sign, slumbers that tiniest of all seeds, which is the germ of the soul's life, and the secret of its power.

But this spiritual seed has a vitality all its own. It is a living thing, and, like all living things, it has the mysterious power of growth, of nourishing itself on that which surrounds it, of multiplying itself. It holds in it the promise and potency of a force which is the mightiest energy on this earth. What is it that can beat down the insurgent appetites of our nature? What is it that can carry itself with a deaf ear amid all that the world can bring to seduce it or to crush it? That same little seed of spiritual desire, faith, purpose in your soul. Only cherish it and feed it, let it feel the warmth of God's sun, let His rain fall on it, only let it thrust out the life that is in it above the ground, and it will overshadow all that is within you and around you with its. boughs. "When it is grown it is the greatest among herbs." There is no power that can